


Hype

by pacifictiger



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Battle of the Bands, F/M, M/M, Musician Cas, Musician Dean, Musicians, punk!Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:55:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1807849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pacifictiger/pseuds/pacifictiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a strange twist of fate, Dean and Castiel's bands are forced to combine into one for the ultimate Battle of the Bands. This takes a high level of patience, tolerance, and flexibility, which neither man has. But maybe, if they sort out their differences and focus on the similarities, they can pull together a winning act.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Tale Of Two Concerts

The stream of people pushing in to the bar seemed to be never ending. The bar was called Frank's, and had probably been opened before Jesus was born. At least, that was what it looked like. Nobody can remember a time when Frank's wasn't here, at the intersection of State Street and Main Street in Oakdale City. The walls were black, as were the floors and tables and just about everything in it. Coincidentally, the patrons themselves were also mostly covered in black, minus the many colored tattoos many sported. Behind the aging velvet curtain, Castiel Novak stood watching patrons enter. It was by no means his first show here, hell, it was probably closer to his hundredth. And yet, every night Castiel still felt the slightest twitch of nerves as he fiddled with his eyebrow piercing.

 

"God fucking dammit," Anna muttered as she tripped over some cords. She managed not to smash her prized electric guitar as she stumbled across the stage. Turning with a smirk, Castiel watched as she cursed out whoever set up the speakers. "You have something to say, Castiel?" Anna glared. She looked especially menacing with the black leather shorts and flames tattooed onto her arms. Castiel remembers how stoic she was when getting them done, because he came with her. Her red hair was flowing down her back, unrestricted by the elaborate braids she usually kept it in during the day.

 

Without responding, Castiel turned back to his post at the curtain. Anna sighed and went back to micromanaging the band as they set up. Gabriel was sitting on his keyboard and laughing at the noises it made, while Lucifer set up his drum kit with almost inhuman precision. Castiel had his bass already on and tuned, and just needed to plug in. When he looked into the crowd, he didn't see any familiar faces among the swirl of people. Then again, the only important people to Castiel were on the stage with him.

 

As a crowd formed in front of the stage, Castiel found a cord and plugged his bass in. The rich, deep notes he stroked out of the instrument comforted him. Anna walked across the stage, testing all the mikes until she affirmed that everything was perfectly in place. That was when she signaled to the bar manager, who had watched solemnly as the band prepared, to open the curtains. With a mechanical creak, the curtains jolted as they were ripped open, revealing a bar crammed full of punks and goths, all of whom turned to stare at the stage.

 

Anna, of course, was grinning and waving as the attention shifted to her. Stepping forward, she took her spot at the left mic, and gestured for Castiel to step out from the depths of the stage and take his place. With cat like grace, Castiel stepped into the center spotlight, lightly resting his hands on his bass. Anna nudged him with her elbow, nodding towards the crowd. That was her signal that he should introduce them. She seemed to enjoy making Castiel speak in front of crowds.

 

"Welcome to Frank's everyone, this is Anna," Castiel started, pointing to his smirking sister, "Gabriel," who waved and bowed from his keyboards, "Lucifer," a clash of sticks and cymbals came from the drum kit, "and I'm Castiel." There was some clapping, and a few people smiled in a way that made Castiel feel a bit uncomfortable.

 

"Anyways, we're called Caged Angels," Castiel paused here for a bit more applause, "and this song is about fucking." The cheers increased tenfold.

 

~~

 

 

Across town, another band was setting up for another gig in another bar. While neither bar was particularly classy (or cleanly), The Roadhouse at least had much better lighting than Frank's. Country music streamed through the speakers, and a roar of voices drowned it out. There were no curtains here, because as Jo often said they had nothing to hide. Dean disagreed, but that's a train of thought for a different day. Now, Dean was busy unpacking the many different pieces of his drum kit. Taking the stands and drums out one by one and arranging them around the small stool didn't take that much time, but it did take a decent amount of focus. With his fingers, Dean lightly drummed on each piece of his kit. He still had yet to set up the cowbells and tambourines and all that shit. He glanced over as Sam, who was dragging a stool into the middle of the stage, his guitar resting in a case on the far left of the stage.

 

Benny had his acoustic bass hanging from his neck as he leaned into the crowd, chatting with his girlfriend. Or maybe she was his sister. Dean didn't really know, Benny was sort of a loaner who had shown up one gig with his bass and asked to join. He was good, so Dean said yes. Or maybe it was because Benny managed to cheer up the brothers, what with his always handy jokes and stories. Plus, he fit their overall look what with his lumberjack look. All three wore different variations on flannel, buttoned or unbuttoned with shirts underneath, accompanied by jeans.

 

Sam turned to ask Dean if he was ready, and Dean nodded. After touring with your brother of all people for 10 years, speaking wasn't necessary. Benny pulled back from the girl, who appeared to be his girlfriend (because nobody kisses family like _that_ ) and stood to the left of Dean.

 

Sam cleared his throat and then waved to Ellen, the bar's owner who stood behind the counter. She nodded to him to start, and Sam started his introduction. 

 

"If you've ever been to the Roadhouse, you'd know that we're called Chest, and that Dean, Benny, and I, are the damn finest country band in town." Someone whooped from the far reaches of the bar, and was accompanied by scattered applause. "And now, let's hear some good music," Sam finished, and began to strum on his acoustic guitar, Benny's bass melding into the sound and Dean anchoring it all down with his bass drum. It was going to be a good show, Dean could already tell.

 

~~

 

After the show, Castiel unplugged his bass and stored it inside the case he'd brought it in. Anna was busy mingling with the interested customers, and Gabriel had already snuck off with a blonde he'd been eyeing all night. Lucifer seemed to be lost in an elaborate pattern he was drumming on his thigh as he sat at the bar, and the bartender sighed and leaned against the counter. Her name was Wendy, and she'd been hopelessly in love with Lucifer since the day he walked in and took out a pair of drumsticks. Lucifer didn't seem to enjoy any amount of attention, so her affections were lost.

 

Castiel slung his bag over his shoulders, and walked towards the exit. On the black painted door was a flyer, for something called Oakdale Battle of The Bands. Castiel remembered the event's name from when Anna had been talking about it the night before. She seemed excited about entering and winning the $5,000 cash prize. Castiel ripped the flyer off the door and shoved it in to his pocket. It would make Anna happy, he decided. Anything for his band.

 

With the competition in mind, Castiel pushed the door open and entered the back alley. He walked quickly towards the main street, and turned right when he stepped on to the sidewalk. It's not like anyone would want to mess with him of all people in a back alley. Castiel was the picture of imitating. He had piercings in his lips, eyebrow and nose, and tattoos curved down his lightly toned arms. He wasn't exactly buff, but nobody would call him weak (to his face). Well, maybe Anna. 

 

As he turned, Castiel slammed into another man heading the opposite direction. He was a few inches taller, so it worked out that Castiel's nose piercing smashed in to the man's chin.

 

"Dude! What the fuck?" the man shouted as he grasped his now bleeding chin.

 

"That was my line," Castiel grumbled. His nose ring was dented, and he'd have to buy a new one. Then, the man stepped under the streetlight. He was so pretty and his eyes were a stunning shade of green, was all Castiel could think. That wouldn't be the best thing to say to someone you'd just injured, so Castiel stuck with a more apologetic, "Sorry, do you need a band aid?"

 

The man glared. _Shit,_ Castiel thought as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't need a band aid, I'm not a child," Dean growled. Castiel noticed that his voice was considerably lower, almost like he dragged his vocal chords halfway into the center of the Earth. Which, Castiel wasn't afraid to admit, was very attractive. But then again, there weren't many gay lumberjacks in this city, and Castiel wasn't exactly feeling like fighting off a homophobic asshole if he came on too strong. And this guy was definitely an asshole, so Castiel knew he was at least half right.

 

Dean rubbed his injured chin with his left hand, and felt some blood smear on his hand. The other man, with the face full of metal that set off his doe-like blue eyes, seemed to waver uncomfortably in the street light. Dean briefly considered whether the man had to use scissors to cut them off of himself. It seemed plausible.

 

"This piercing's fucked to hell now. Do you have an iron chin or something?" Castiel fiddled with the dented piercing in his nose. It wouldn't twirl as smoothly now, and he knew he'd need to go back to the tattoo shop and have someone replace it. Which was probably going to be expensive, and Castiel had been looking forward to spending his extra tips on fixing this up. Then again, he mused, a dented piercing probably fit his look just as well.

 

"Obviously not," Dean responded, gesturing at his now freely bleeding chin. Castiel reached into his pocket, and Dean heard loose change rattling inside. He pulled out a band aid seconds latter, and smirked at Dean.

 

"You sure you don't want this?" Castiel asked, and Dean was uncertain whether he was talking about the band aid. Which Dean sort of wanted. Or the man himself, which Dean also wanted. Dean begrudgingly snatched the band aid from Castiel's hand and peeled it. It was black, and since when were black band aids even a thing?

 

"Is leaving your wound exposed not punk enough for you? Need to cover up with black band aids?" Dean laughed back. He stepped back into the lamplight, and Castiel noticed how golden his hair looked from this angle.

 

"Depends on the day," Castiel answered. Dean shoved the paper backing of the band aid into his pocket, leveling his gaze with the shorter man.

 

"I'd love to stay and chat more, but I have to schedule and appointment to get this fixed," Castiel rolled his eyes and gestured at his nose ring, then glared at Dean. The other man wasn't exactly repentant, and watched as Castiel picked up his flier and instrument case and strode down the street, fading into the darkness. Dean scuffed his shoe against the pavement, mildly disappointed in himself for being such a prick. Then again, the other guy had been just as rude, so he felt it justified.

 

\-----

 

Castiel carefully opened his apartment door, wary of its old and rusted hinges. The entire room he had rented was, objectively, a shithole. But it was his, and he had made it his own as much as one could.

 

The posters covering bullet holes in the walls and the mugs with sarcastic quotes sitting on the counter all helped make the apartment a little less horrifying. Anna and Gabriel rented a nice house together, one on the nice side of town. Every time they came over and saw the dismal conditions Castiel survived in, they invited him to move in. But Castiel payed the rent here on his own, and was happy to be self sufficient. God knows where Lucifer slept, but he was always reasonably on time to rehearsals, so Castiel didn't mind.

 

Humming to himself, Castiel pulled his favorite mug, the purple one that said Jesus was a liberal and had a picture of Christ himself riding a donkey, and filled it with cold tea from the fridge. He drank it at his card table in the kitchen, and pinned the flier on his small bulletin board. $5,000 was worth any juvenile competition, especially when Castiel knew their band could win. After all, the only requirements were to be based within the city, and have multiple members. _How could they not?_ he thought snarkily.

 

Castiel thought passingly of the man on the street, and considered whether maybe, if he'd acted a bit kinder, he would have agreed to pay to fix the piercing. Castiel doubted it, but that would have been a nice gesture. As he lay in bed, he wondered if he had made a mistake in pissing off the other man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot I wrote this, but I kind of like the idea.... 
> 
> Anyways the whole band aid thing is borrowed from Ezra Koenig.


End file.
